The Correction

Chapter 4- Glea.

They were still there. Real as ever, my wings quivered on my back and I dared not to touch them. Mum and dad were at the school, dealing with my so called ‘bullying problem’ and I was allowed to stay safe at home- except I was banned from going without leaving a note or text, which was, of corse, understandable.

I feared we would be moving soon. I couldn’t stay in this area with the national hatred against me and there were no other schools in the area. Mum was going to lose her job she loved so much, and super great working hours and dad would have to travel further to work than he already does, all because of me and my stupid ‘bulling problem’.

I sipped the tea mum had made me barely ten minutes ago, it was hot and warmed my mouth and throat, leaving me all cosy and homely inside. My eyes spotted the rucksack in the corner, still full with my things from yesterday and I was surprised and happy that mum hadn’t gone through it, or I’d have to explain why I was carrying around a book called- “Angels and fairies crowd the world… secretly. By Tommy Brown”

I wasn’t going to the library today, for one that librarian spooked me out and I wouldn’t put it past her to call the police and tell them I was skiving and two I couldn’t risk not being here even if I did leave a note.

But I needed to find out more, I didn’t want these stupid wings, which were ruining my life now, I couldn’t bear having them anymore. So I had an obvious option so I could find out more at home: the internet.

I picked up my mug and began to carefully walk up the stairs, one step at a time so I didn’t spill any liquid. When I was at the top I walked to one of the doors I didn’t usually walk to. It wasn’t mine; it was my dad’s study… which I wasn’t officially allowed in because of all his work stuff but it had the only computer in the house in.

I grasped the handle and titled it slightly till it opened, then I pushed it and darkness met my eyes. In front of me was a big empty space, there were blinds on the windows so the light inside was dim but still light enough to see and there was a funny dusty smell like it had been a while since anyone had been inside.

I wondered over to the window and twisted the toggle and then rays of light began to leak through until the room was bright. I placed my tea on the desk and sat in the chair.

The computer was on. Probably left on by mistake but by the smell and dust I doubt that was good for the electricity bill. I pulled up a Google page and was quick to draw the mouse to the search bar.

‘Glea’

There weren’t many views or websites but there was one that interested me. I clicked the link and a page from the London gallery, it was a profile about a painting but there was no image. I slipped the tea which was now a little cooler, was the painting important?

I spent the next half an hour looking but nothing else came up, only stories about the mad people like Josephine. Nothing. No book reviews or reports, not on the map and not a planet or star. My cup was empty but I still went to sip, disappointed I put it back down, logged off and left the room closing the door behind me.

I stared at the clock, the hands ticking away, it was 10:32. The gallery opened at 10:00 so it was open. But it was so far and after yesterday…

I shook the thought away and popped back up the stairs back into my room. I stopped at the mirror, a girl stared back at me with a cut face, soft brown hair and then those things… the wings. I had no choice.

So without hesitation I stormed down the stairs, with a raincoat and rucksack in had, and out the door.

*****

It was cold inside the room. The gallery had spotless white walls with colourful art pieces like windows to creation.

 I was the only one here, most of the other people were looking at the oldest bits of art or the most famous whereas I was in a travelling gallery (here till the end of the month) looking for the painting.

Title after title, I spanned the letters and the art piece before quickly moving on. I was nearing the end of the room, where a big golden door stood- shinning nest to the plain walls.

I passed another painting, one with thick beautiful strokes and an array of unique colours. The title read- The land of Glea, by Ronan Brown (1888-1920).

The art was of a field full with bright flowers and plants, trees with purple leaves gathered above and a grass of lime green below. The paint was thickly spread, with blokes of colour in a million shades and thin and thick styles. In the background was a group of buildings, like a city or town, with stunning structures with daring actuator and designs.

I stepped closer, admiring the details, when I saw something amazing. Among the leaves was a figure, small enough to miss but big enough to see, one more step forward. The body had wings, like mine, the thing was a fairy!

As I searched the image I saw more and more of these silhouettes, a normal human like body with thing butterfly wings.

I looked back at my own, still there and glistening in the sunlight, thin and gentle.

There was a muffled sound accruing at the start of the corridor, growing in volume before I saw the lady.

I guessed she was an art critique for she was carrying a notepad and every second or so scribbled down her thoughts. The woman was smart, with an immaculately clean blouse followed by her tiny waist before my knee length skirt. Her glasses on her face were thin and sort of evil, with eyes much like the librarians and lips coated with lipstick.

I turned back to the art, hearing the dainty taps of her heels against the marbled floor. Then she spoke, her voice clear, “You like the art?”

She stepped closer, and was then by me, “Ah, one of my favourites, totally real but totally not. Have you seen them in the details?”

I nodded, keeping silent.

“Yes, Glea, beautiful isn’t it!”

“Stunning” My voice wasn’t as posh as hers but was still sleek.

“Yes. Must be moving on. The main painting is so… breathtaking!” I looked up at her as she spoke.

“What painting?”

“The main Glea on- through those doors, didn’t you know this wasn’t it?” She chuckled through her words before strolling over to the large doors, opening it and walking through the thin gap. After a few seconds I followed her in, pushing the heavy door to the side.

In the room there was only one painting sealed in a glass case; the woman stood in the corner, alone and writing down notes. She left. My eyes moved up to the painting. Glea by Andrew West (1930-1945). There was a description by the side.

Glea was painted by Andrew West in 1944 when he was 14, one year before his death. The imaginary land is featured in paintings around the world, all in different eras in history.

The art was like the other except it was massive, taking up most of the wall space. It also had the bright colours and flowers except it was nearer the city, where a giant skyscraper stood. The building was big, with unique patters of spikes, edges and points. It was mesmerizing.

I sat there on the floor, looking up at the image, with the silhouettes of fairy creatures in hidden corners and flowers around the abstract skyscraper.

*****

I was there for several minutes, maybe even an hour, in the empty room with a whole world in front of me. I pulled myself up, swung my backpack around my body and walked over to the door.

The street was bustling was busy bodies, shoppers, workers, adults and children. I pushed my way, trying to get back to the bus stop, walking down the paves and roads. I moved down to an empty street, hurrying to get there in time for a bus, but I still have a long way to go.

I heard birds shuffling around in the trees dotted around in the houses front gardens, signing and chirping to one another; each singing in perfect tune and timing.

I walked around a corner. And then there was silence. Silence and darkness.

I opened my eyes.